


Rhapsody

by InkyBlot



Category: Rocketman (2019)
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, Music, Oneshot, Piano, classical, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22256680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkyBlot/pseuds/InkyBlot
Summary: Oneshot:It’s not like anything John’s heard him play before.
Relationships: Elton John/John Reid
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Rhapsody

The party is crowded and loud. John scans the chattering throngs of people through the cigarette smoke, searching for Elton. He feels strangely cold without the heat of the sun by his side.

It has been a few weeks since they reunited in London, with John slamming a now multi-millionaire Elton against the wall of a recording studio closet and feeling that mouth stuttering against his own like a lusty teenager.

As John had predicted, Elton had blazed across the world’s music scene in the two years since the Troubadour, barrelling from strength to strength with typical flair and energy. John purses his lips as he remembers the quiet frustration of seeing that sparking smile plastered across the front of all the L.A. newspapers, and hearing that beguiling music roaring out of radio stations everywhere.

Had made it very hard to stop thinking about Elton.

And so here he is. Joining raucous London parties, and watching Elton perform, and fucking him every night with unabating hunger.

(It never fails to disarm John when Elton, rock superstar and world’s prodigy, leaves the glittering stage with its multitudes chanting praises to their musical god, and returns to his arms humble and wanting, sincere and so eager to please. It’s almost embarrassing.)

John makes his way through the humming laughter and movement of the party’s guests; it’s late in the evening and earnest conversations have given way to quiet drunken debates and clumsy blissful dancing. He needs to find Elton. He needs to get him home and suck him off, needs to feel Elton’s swollen dick pulse against the wetness of his tongue as Elton’s calloused fingers grip and pull at his hair and the muscles of those strong thighs surge beneath John’s palms.

Suddenly he hears the faint melodious tinkling of a piano. It’s coming from one of the upstairs rooms, and John makes his way towards the sound. The staircase of this house (whoever’s house it is) is packed with people, mostly drunk or stoned. John pushes his way through them, drawn upward and feeling his annoyance simmering faintly.

He gets to a doorway and rests his shoulder against the warm wood of the frame, crossing his arms and taking in the sounds pouring out of the grand piano in the corner. There are a few people in the room, he sees, sprawled in armchairs or tittering in small tipsy groups. Most of them are watching, faces lit with loose delight, as Elton John leans mirthfully over the piano, a drunken lopsided grin lighting his face and his fingers moving with lightning speed and precision over the keys.

It’s not like anything John’s heard him play before. This is fucking _classical_ music, and the skill with which it is executed takes John’s breath away. He realises he’s never imagined Elton being classically trained to this standard. It comes as a quiet zinging thrill.

The melody is effervescent and complex, notes fluent and cascading with glimmering beauty. Sifting through the sparse catalogue of historical composers in his head, John places the piece as Franz Lizst’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 – a dramatic, beautiful, humorous piece which ripples it’s way through octaves with awe-inspiring rapidity. He bites his lip.  
  
Elton hasn’t realised that John’s there. John sees him laugh as a tipsy party-goer claps him appreciatively on the back, never ceasing his playing. Then Elton flashes a saucy grin at his small throng of cheering listeners, and the melody slows to an amusingly dramatic cluster of powerful chords.

Ever the showman.

And then, as John watches silently, Elton’s brow furrows in concentration, and the melody takes flight with ever increasing speed, a rhapsody of lightness rippling across the charged atmosphere of the room. People fall silent to listen.

John finds his eyes following Elton’s hands, which move with such dexterity and confidence across the blistering keys of the instrument that they seem at times a blur. John sees the slender veins on them as Elton’s rings glint in the lamplight.

Those hands are extremely strong – John can attest to that, he thinks, as he remembers the feel of them sliding around his leaking cock, or working their way tenderly inside him with heavy precision, or gently cupping his face as he lies on his back and Elton fucks him breathlessly into the pillows.

The music is triumphant now, rising to a thunderous ending, and John suddenly feels slightly dizzy as the waves of twinkling notes swell to fill the small room, wrapping John up in transformative beauty. He tells himself it’s the whiskey.

Elton throws back his head and grins with fierce effort, not even needing to look down at where his fingers fly with blinding speed across the vast expanses of the keyboard, as if he were some star pianist leading the orchestra of the Royal Philharmonic. He’s loose and having fun, and John sees a easy confidence in him that rarely appears except for when he’s totally drunk or high.

The final jubilant notes die out amid a smattering of drunken applause and good-natured laughter, and Elton turns on the piano stool at last to notice John standing unmoving by the door. John watches as the victorious amusement in Elton’s eyes quickly turns to shy affection as he stares up at John and offers a small secret smile. John feels throbbing lightning shoot to his lower stomach as he thinks about all the things he’s going to ask those nimble hands to do.  
  
He holds Elton’s gaze unflinchingly and jerks his head towards the exit.

**Author's Note:**

> _This is a work of fiction based purely on the characters in the film "Rocketman" and is not meant to represent any real persons._
> 
> * * *
> 
> HELP I can't stop writing from John's POV!  
>   
> Here's the piece of music Elton's playing: [Youtube Link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LdH1hSWGFGU)  
>   
> Comments are love, people ♡


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